


How Are You?

by FanfictionFever



Series: Vent Fics [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, James (mentioned) - Freeform, M/M, im bad at fluff everything turns bad, not rlly a happy ending, not rlly klance again, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 02:10:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17992853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanfictionFever/pseuds/FanfictionFever
Summary: It’s a question no doubt. One that should be easily answered with a smile and a small, simple ‘I’m ___’ but, for some reason unknown to mankind, manages to the the hardest question to answer. A lot of people lie when answering this question or any variation of it, and it makes no difference as to whether or not you tell the truth because there will always be someone who doesn’t believe you.-----Keith asks Lance a simple question and gets more than he bargained for. It is his fault, though, considering he played Lance liek a fiddle.





	How Are You?

‘How are you?’

It’s a question no doubt. One that should be easily answered with a smile and a small, simple ‘I’m ___’ but, for some reason unknown to mankind, manages to the the hardest question to answer. A lot of people lie when answering this question or any variation of it, and it makes no difference as to whether or not you tell the truth because there will always be someone who doesn’t believe you. Maybe they see right through that fake smile you show with the teeth and the slightly pink cheeks. It could be the fact you didn’t smile or even offer that small, fake giggle before saying you’re fine. Or maybe you smiled while you said you weren’t okay. 

Either way this is the question that stumps every human. It isn’t a math question asking to divide and multiply or find some sort of derivative of an equation. This isn’t a history question asking about civil rights or whether or not George Washington wore a size nine shoe. No exact answer lies in the question. The answer is open ended. It’s more like . . . an English question asking for your opinion on what a poem means to you. There are multiple answers, and not a single one of them are the correct one. Even if you feel okay answering with, ‘I feel okay,’ is just, for some reason, unacceptable. 

People want to know why you’re just okay. They are curious as to why you are feeling like complete shit or what it was to make your day amazing. The answer of, ‘I don’t know,’ is just as unacceptable apparently because people will always laugh and say you have to know. You have to, have to, have to know. If you don’t know then is that really how you are? Is that how you feel right now? You don’t know now, do you? All because someone asks you how you are. Suddenly you don’t know how you are, and suddenly every answer you give is wrong. It feels like a test you studied for, but when you’re handed the sheet, none of the questions were on the study guide. 

Which is why Lance sat staring at the wall, Keith Kogane leaning beside him with a lollipop - which was more or less just the stick at this point - hanging from his mouth. Five minutes ago he had asked those three words, and still Lance sat, back pressed against the wall, blue eyes concentrating on the wall on the other side. Class had began at least ten minutes ago, and neither male had bothered to move from where they were settled in the bathroom. There was a reason, mind you, for this hold up, and it had to do with Keith asking that damn question. 

“Pissed.” Lance said finally, standing up and glaring at the male that stood beside him. “Pissed. Confused. Like I want to punch someone but won’t.” He shoved past the other, thankful at first when no footsteps followed. Of course that didn’t last because soon he heard the sound he dreaded so much - that damn chuckle - and then footsteps following him out of the bathroom and down the hallways. They couldn’t stop in the middle and fight, he knew that. As much as Lance’s mind and body screamed at him to turn and punch Keith square in the face he didn’t. Instead he walked. 

Walked out the front doors, ignoring the confused look of the ladies that sat in the office. Ignored Keith yelling at him from the front door. Hell he ignored the fact it was pouring rain (unnecessarily dramatic, Mother Nature) so hard that his clothes were drenched just a foot from the doors. Soon the rain stopped hitting him, and a small glance over showed Keith who was holding an umbrella over them as they walked. Of course. What a fucking gentleman, right? Everyone loves Kogane. 

Lance didn’t bother talking as they walked, but once they were off school property Keith grabbed his upper arm, letting the umbrella fall to the ground as he looked at Lance. His violet eyes showed almost no emotion as he stood, staring into Lance’s blue hues. After a minute Lance ripped away from him, but didn’t walk. He should have ran. Should run. Run away, far away, never look back because Keith doesn’t deserve him looking back. But he didn’t. Because, as much as he wanted to, everything about Keith was pulling him in just as much as it pushed. 

After a minute the male grabbed him again, pulling him in, pressing their bodies together and forcing Lance to look at him. “I deserved better.” Lance broke the silence. Of course he broke the silence. More than half the time he was the one to break it because Keith was too much of a coward to say anything to break it. “I deserved better than what you gave me, and you didn’t deserve the happiness I provided for you. I’ve learned that, Keith. Over the span of a fucking year _I LEARNED_ what I did and did not fucking deserve and you -” He broke off with a sob, trying to push away from Keith but failing at the attempts. 

Instead he was held tightly by Keith’s hands on his hips. Even if he managed to pull off he knew he would crumble in the end. That’s how it always was. Lance would always crumble to the ground with it came to Keith because that’s just how it was. “You deserved better than me.” Keith agreed after a minute, now wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist to hold tighter, closer. “And along the way I told you that, Lance. I told you that I would build you up and tear you down. Piece by piece. You stayed. You _chose_ to stay.” 

Chose. 

Lance laughed at that. What else was he supposed to do? To say? He finally managed to push away from Keith enough to hold him to arms length, tears falling down his face. It wasn’t like that would go noticed, though, considering the rain the mixed in with them. “Right. Right I chose to stay because I fucking wanted to. I wanted to be broken down and treated like less than dirt. I wanted someone to ignore me yet manage to show me the world. You know what, Keith? I know a lot of people like you. I know a lot of people fucking - they love that whole thing you have going on. Photography, slightly emo, perfect little relationship all of it, but you know what? You know what I finally have the courage to say to your face that I have held in for almost a whole year?” 

“Keith Kogane I hate you. I hate your dumb photos and your stupid fucking haircut. I hate your relationship and not because I’m jealous but because your boyfriend is a better version of me. Prettier than me but still looks like me with the brown hair and blue eyes and tan skin. One that easily falls for all your tricks because he is head over heels and doesn't know you how I got to know you. I hate the way you are willing to use someone and throw them out when they aren’t of convenience to you anymore. But do you know what I hate most of all, Keith?” At the question Keith seemed to wince, eyes averting down. Maybe it was wrong for Lance to feel so big and love how small the other seemed to look, but he did. Every moment of this was like heaven to him. 

Heaven because he was finally getting it out. After two years. One year he was pining. One year they were bonding. Then, in just three months, Keith squished it, and Lance hated that. But that wasn’t what he hated most of all. Two months after telling Lance he loves him and Keith moved on in the blink of an eye, but that’s not what he hated most of all. One week after confessing and Keith declined a date with Lance because he didn’t like his family, but that wasn’t what he hated most of all. 

No. 

“I hate that I fucking _love_ you still. I hate that you are the world’s biggest dick and yet I want to be with you. I want to hold you and kiss you. I want to be James. And that’s what I hate most of all. I really, really fucking hate how you built me up and broke me down, yet have the ability to act like you didn’t do that to me at all. Do you know what I have been through? DO YOU KNOW WHAT I HAVE BEEN THROUGH?” Lance was yelling - more screaming - at this point. Keith was silent as Lance said it all, not daring to add input because he probably knew that Lance was right. 

A laugh escaped from Lance as he shook his head, running a hand through his soaking wet hair. “Of course not. Of course you don’t because I never told you everything because you would think I’m too fucked up to be with, and past me didn’t want that because you were my dream. Now I don’t tell you because you won’t care.”

“Lance I’m -”

“No!” He interrupted without any hesitation, shoving Keith back and glaring at him. “No you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to stand here and tell me sorry like it fixes things because, newsflash Keith, that’s just a word. It’s a word and what you did to me deserves so much more than a fucking word. If you want to be friends you are doing to have to try your damn hardest to make everything up to me. You want to try friendship? Then look me in the eyes and tell me you will sit here and listen to everything I have to say and not run because that’s what you’re so fucking good at.” 

It took a minute for Keith to nod. When he did he slowly bent to pick up the umbrella, putting it back over them and staring at Lance. “I want to listen. I - I’ve always wanted to listen you - I know I was shitty, Lance. And if listening to everything will help us fix this I want to do it.” All he needed to do was be willing. Willing to let Lance scream at him more because he deserved that. Willing to hold Lance when he broke down sobbing because he caused that. Willing to apologize in words and actions because he needed to. Everything for Lance had been shit this year and it was all because of one night. One damn night. 

Lance took a deep breath and nodded, eyes closing as he leaned his head onto Keith’s shoulder. Without a moment to lose Keith was dropping the umbrella again, letting the rain hit them as his arms wrapped tightly around Lance. Quietly the male sobbed into his shoulder, finally falling to his knees. Keith went with, not letting the grip loosen as he followed him to the ground. This was going to be a long night. And just to think it all starting because Keith asked him one question. 

‘How are you’ is a hard question to answer because when you answer it, you lie no matter what. Sometimes the answer brings out more than you’ve bargained for, and sometimes it’s a question that starts the way to repair something broken. 

Of course other times ‘how are you’ is simply just a question.

**Author's Note:**

> Tag yourself I'm Lance lmao 
> 
> I don't even meant that jokingly tho I mean I am actually Lance hi I vent a lot


End file.
